A Blind Christmas
by RooOJoy
Summary: She smiled against him. "I love Christmas more than anything!" His chest shook in laughter under her curls. "Even more than you love me?"


Massive kudos to my Alpha/Beta, Rosella Burgundy, for her time with this story. Any mistakes left, are my own.

All kneel to the amazing JKR for letting us play in her beautiful world filled with incredible characters.

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 **A Blind Christmas  
~RooOJoy~  
**

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"Keep walking, 'Mione," he whispered closely, her hair preventing him from getting as near as he wanted. Placing his hands gently on her hips, he nudged her until her feet took another step. He smirked, watching her blindly move forward, hands outstretched - she hated to not know what was going on, he, however, _loved_ it.

"You know I don't like that nickname," she replied irritably as she stumbled a bit over her own feet. "And why do I need to be blindfolded?"

As he continued to guide her forward, he moved one of his hands from her waist and up the side of her ribs. Shifting aside her scarf, he traced the open flesh of her neck with his fingers and swept her riotous curls to the side. "But I know you love it," he moved his lips close to her ear and huskily continued, "when _I_ call you that."

He watched her shudder, the outside winter air having nothing to do with it, but the deep blush creeping from the clasp of her cloak to settle on her cheeks proving what he already knew - he had this effect on her. He loved that he could do that to her so easily. He had been doing it to her for years, long before he realized just how simple it really was, much before he realized just what a delight it was for him as well.

She stopped and sighed as she let the weight of her head fall back onto his chest leaving her flushed neck open to him. He had an agenda, and while there was always time for a bit of teasing and fun, he promised himself he would not get too caught up. Leaning down and burying his nose in the crook of her neck, he inhaled deeply, letting the scent of honey and lavender invade his senses causing the most delicious of reactions from his body. He dragged his nose over her soft flesh barely making contact before coming up to press his lips to the sweet, delicate spot beneath her earlobe. Flicking his tongue in gentle circles, he enjoyed eliciting his favourite noises from the witch. He stopped only a moment later and chuckled at her disappointed huff.

"Do you see what you do to me, Hermione?" he asked as he ran his hand from her shoulder, down her side to settle on her stomach. Using his palm he pressed her firmly back against him, her bum flesh along his quickly hardening length. "You are so beautiful, and if you had your way you'd request for me to shag you right here, am I right?" She nodded, her breath growing heavier, and he rewarded her another long swipe of his tongue up her neck. "My pretty little witch, it is Christmas, and I have a present for you," he finished in his most mischievous sing-song voice.

"George!" She turned in his arms, and playfully slapped his chest. "Seriously, where are you taking me?"

Hermione's hands came up to her face, attempting to remove the fabric covering her eyes.

"You can try that if you'd like, love, but I have put a special charm on that blindfold. If _you_ remove it, you will also be left standing in the buff." He grinned wickedly, as her mitten-clad hands halted in mid-air.

His smile widened as she weighed her pros and cons of the situation - she had her lip tightly gripped between her teeth and a small line between her eyes. Finally, she huffed and turned in his arms, her back once again pressed against his chest. "Lead on, oh funny one."

Oh, how he loved this feisty witch in his arms. She had always been around, since she started school at least. He never paid her much attention, or at least any besides attempting to get under her skin. It wasn't until after the final battle, the day Fred was gone forever, that he had noticed her for something so much more. Hermione had been what no other person could be, she had said the things that others struggled with - she was the saviour from the very dark hell he was in. It had taken years, and she never left him. Still, there were times when he would get down, thinking of what could have been, and she was always there a warm hand in his, reminding him that more was still to come. He still didn't understand why she chose him. How had he fared so lucky to have this amazing, beautiful, extremely intellectual woman stand so firmly by his side? Questions to be asked, but no answers were needed - he was just happy to call her his, and she reminded him daily how much she loved that he was hers.

It's as though their relationship was destined from the beginning, but you never know until the first domino is pushed that a thousand more will fall after it, all of them chasing the other to bring the final two down together. He may be a jokester that everyone loves, and she may be a bookworm, that tends to get under the skin of others, but they somehow come together and match so perfectly. In fact, no one would have seen the pair of them coming, but they worked well together. George fed the part of Hermione that she didn't find naturally in herself, he lit her soul and made her smile, he reminded her to laugh and that life was just too short to take so seriously. Hermione, on the other hand, reminded George to work hard for what he wanted, to not give up when things didn't work out the first time, and that there was always someone that needed a smile and that he was just the man to make that happen.

Now, they made their way to stand in front of a house, a home George and Hermione had walked by numerous times before. It was nestled into a quiet street of a small wizarding town. They had happened by it by chance months ago as they were trying to find the new residence of his friend, Lee Jordan. From the first sight, Hermione had been in love with the quaint little cottage, and when Lee had told him the owner was thinking of selling it, George had not waited an instant before meeting with the wizard and offering up a large sum of galleons. He had spent months decorating the inside with the help of Ginny, and now was time for the most grand of Christmas presents he could give to his witch.

The wind outside gently blew snowflakes around them, a rogue curl tickled Hermione's face and she attempted to blow the curl away. George grinned in happiness, the slight huff of frustration emitting from her lips in the most adorable of ways, lighting his insides like a flame to a candle.

He could not have picked a more perfect day to propose to this amazing woman standing before him. It was the type of Christmas day that you always wished for - a fresh snow had fallen the night before, but the sky was now a bright, cloudless blue. He was nervous, yet excited. The feelings contradicted themselves so much that he wasn't sure if he wanted to vomit or start twirling her around in the snow. Finally, after only a few seconds of hesitation, he said, "We're here."

Hermione's lips lifted slightly on one side before she pulled her lip between her teeth again. Hesitantly, she asked, "George, where exactly is _here_? Obviously, we are outside, and I have no desire to be stark naked in the middle of winter in the bleeding snow."

Snorting with laughter at her reply, he answered. "Not to worry, my Christmas witch. Now, if I remove the cover from your eyes, I promise you won't be left in your knickers." Grabbing her mitten-clad hand, he placed it so her palm was up. Then he pulled a key from his pocket and placed the ribboned topped metal against the soft wool of her hand. The flutters in his gut were some of the most intense he had ever felt - oh, how she could elicit the most bizarre of feelings inside him.

"Hermione, I am going to lift your blindfold now."

Slowly, he lifted the band from her face. She blinked slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight beaming from the snow. Her palm closed against the key, and she looked down to it for a few seconds before she looked up to meet his eyes. "I don't understand. This isn't a practical joke is it, George Weasley?"

The line between her brows came to life in her agitation. He kissed the spot lovingly and then answered, "No, love. This is the key to your Christmas present." He gently guided her shoulders so that she was looking up to the house instead of up to him. He and his brothers, Harry included, had taken great fun in decorating the outside of the home. Fairy lights twinkled in the flower beds lining the house, while golden orbs hung from the trees in the front yard, emitting a cheery glow against the white snow. Harry had insisted that they put up 'string lights' around the trim and windows, and the sight was absolutely stunning.

"George . . ." she gasped, breathlessly. "This is the house. Our house . . . I mean the house we always pretend is ours. It's decorated beautifully, isn't it?"

"It _is_ ours now," he told her, eyes never leaving her face.

She blinked slowly, the words he said taking root in her brain as she looked down again to the key in her palm. Suddenly, she gasped and gripped his forearm tightly. Turning to him, he took in the beauty of her face, the wonder in her eyes; the excitement rolling in waves from her was intoxicating. "Happy Christmas, my love," he quietly said, before pulling a box from his pocket. He held it to her. "Open it."

"You great buffoon, there's more?" she asked exasperated, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "George this is all so much."

He could tell she was overwhelmed, but in a good way, the way that only he had the great fortune of being able to do to her. She breathed a shaky breath and handed the key back to him in exchange for the box.

When she saw the gift inside, her hand flew to cover her mouth. Meeting her eyes as she looked up to him, they matched his own watering ones, but the question was loud on her face. Barely above a whisper and in his most cheeky tone, he asked, "How 'bout we get hitched, my gorgeous, amazing, talented, bossy witch?"

Tears finally escaped her lashes, falling heavily down her face, and when she nodded, her face broke into the most radiant smile he ever had the pleasure to witness. "Yes, I'll marry you."

He swept her up into his arms and swung her squealing in delight around in a circle before setting her back down and kissing her. The kiss was fueled by love and desire, the energy around them sparking. She pulled away, and for one brief second he feared there was a 'but'.

"Put it on me, you dolt," she demanded with more joy in her voice than he had ever heard before as she ripped off her mittens, shoving them deep into her pockets.

He laughed again, the sheer magnitude of joy lifting his spirit like nothing else in the world could do. He removed his own gloves and took the ring from the box. Grabbing her warm hand in his own, he kissed her palm, then the back of her hand, and finally the third finger on her left hand before slowly pushing the ring on. The delicate white gold band was shaped into a vine pattern that held the large garnet stone. It slipped effortlessly onto her finger, and he sighed in relief when she told him how much she loved it. Another thank you to his little sister for help with that one.

He couldn't help but smile so much and so hard that surely his cheeks would ache from it by evening. She would marry him. She had said yes. Oh, how he wished Fred was here to see, but there wasn't pain in the feeling, just a flutter of remembrance.

She kissed him again, gentle and sweetly. Smiling against his lips she happily demanded, "I love you, George Weasley, but, C'mon, I want to see our house."

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Hermione grabbed George's hand, the pressure of the ring pressing against their knuckles. The feeling was something euphoric. The excitement she was feeling was almost overwhelming, but with the presence of him by her side, she didn't feel that way. The bubbling sensation that started from her belly and spread its warmth throughout her body was nothing short of magical. When she had pulled him to the door, she stopped and jumped excitedly, clapping her hands together.

He laughed with her, and she was momentarily surprised when he had snaked his arms around her waist pulling her up off her toes as he pressed his mouth firmly against hers. Oh, how she loved when he kissed her. Their lips molded so perfectly together and worked effortlessly against each other. When he lightly touched his tongue against her lips, she didn't hesitate to grant him entrance, and before long they were gasping for air on the stoop of their new home.

 _Their new home. They were going to be husband and wife._

The thoughts both sent waves of excitement and nervousness down her spine. She'd been waiting for his proposal, they had talked of their future so often and so easily lately, that she had the niggling feeling that he was up to something. That and Ginny could not keep a straight face around her for months now. She wondered how long he had been planning all of this.

Smiling against her mouth, he said, "Are you ready?" He kissed her nose then her forehead, and she nodded against him.

A click of the lock and the door swung open. The warmth that came flooding out was inviting. Hermione's heart was racing, beating a new pattern against her ribs. She stepped over the threshold into a small entryway painted in a soft, butter yellow. The runner on the floor contrasted perfectly with the dark grain of the wood.

"Here, let me take your cloak," George requested, pulling her cloak from her arms.

She wasn't sure if she had expected anything when she walked in, but she did not expect fully furnished rooms. They had been talking about this place for ages, and her curiosity of what the inside looked like was not disappointed.

She walked to the sitting room, and it felt as though she had walked into a home she had lived in for ages. The plush couch sat close to the fireplace, the blazing flames already glowing in the gate. There were two comfy looking armchairs opposite the sofa with a massive evergreen tree next to them, lights twinkling making the room glow in a low light. Her eyes roamed around the room, taking in everything from the sweet, heart pillows on the chairs to the magically enchanted snowflakes on the ceiling. Her eyes landed on the large bookcase lining one wall, the shelves empty.

George must have noticed her gaze because he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and kissing her temple. "You would have noticed if I took all your books from the flat. Plus, I am sure you would kill me if I even attempted to shelve them myself."

This man holding her, making her every dream come true was beyond amazing. The passion he had for her, the way he knew her mind, her spirit, her body was something she didn't think existed in life outside of the mind of a writer, but here he was just for her.

"George, this is so perfect. How did you know?"

"Well, you're pretty easy to read most of the time if you know what to look for. That, and Ginny helped me too," he finished the last part a bit off-handedly.

Laughing, she added, "Now, I know why she has been acting peculiar for a while now."

"Come on, I want to show you the rest," he said excitedly, pulling her along through the room.

He showed her the kitchen that she fell in love with too. The white-washed cabinets and farm kitchen sink had her squealing like she had just gotten all O's on her O.W.L.s. The tiny bathroom on the ground floor was perfect for guests, and he explained how he and his dad had enlarged the dining room so that it would be big enough for parties if they wished to have them. Finally, they came full circle and back to the front foyer where the stairs led upstairs.

"Would you indulge your fiancé and wear the blindfold again for one last surprise?" he asked, confidently, but also edged with a bit of a playful whine.

She stared back at him, her own eyes dancing with mirth before she kissed him. "I suppose one last time . . . for today at least," she replied, winking at him before standing tall and closing her eyes.

"Oh, you cheeky minx. I will hold you to that, you know," he said wrapping the silken fabric over her lids and tying it loosely in the back.

By this time in the present giving, she was fully invested. She was, however, up to speed on how this particular Weasley worked, and she had a secret of her own ready for him. She may have not been prepared with gift giving like his, but she knew what he would enjoy. Hermione allowed him to guide her up the flight of stairs, only stumbling a bit on the final step.

"The top floor has four bedrooms, a bathroom, and a master suite," he explained as they walked down the hallway.

She was sure the cottage did not seem large enough to hold all of these rooms, but she supposed it was magically enlarged to do so. Her curiosity did wonder and she very much wanted to see the rooms he talked about as they passed, but she dutifully kept the cover over her eyes and let him guide her.

The feel of his hand, warm and firm on her hips was enough to make her want to stop and push him against what she hoped was a wall close by to snog him senseless. It didn't help that he kept rubbing his thumbs over the thin fabric of her blouse and talking quietly in her ear, making the gooseflesh erupt over her entire body. Finally, he stopped her progress.

"Have I told you how lucky I am that you are mine?" he asked her, running his hands up and down the sides of her arms as he kissed the place between her shoulder and neck.

He knew just what to do drive her crazy. The way he moved his lips over that spot was enough to make her stop thinking. The scent of burning wood and the tangy smell of oranges assaulted her, and she leaned instinctively against him.

"Not quite yet, love, we have a bit more to go first," he teased her.

She heard the creak of door hinges and let him guide her forward. The sweet smell of vanilla wafted her direction, and she could hear the sound of a crackling fire nearby. He once again was running his hands up and down the sides of her arms, and the urge to turn around and kiss him was almost maddening.

"George, please tell me that when you take this blindfold off, we will be in our new bedroom, and no one else will be here." He chuckled slightly, and she added, "Because so help me if I have to share this with anyone else right now, you will not be spending Christmas in your new home."

He distracted her by running his hands down her arms again, sliding off course and inching his fingertips under the hem of her blouse to her stomach, he then moved back up, his hands making wild patterns across her skin. Inhaling sharply at the feel of his rough hands on her flesh, she decided now was the time for her little impromptu surprise. She let him continue his talented works with his fingers as he lavishly sucked and nipped her neck. Leaning into him more, she reached up and easily undid the blindfold. Knowing, George for as long as she did, she knew his threat of _her_ undoing the fabric was most likely true.

At the slip of the knot, she felt the pleasantly warm air of the room hit her now naked body, and she smiled knowing her plan had worked perfectly.

"'Mione," he growled, arousal thick in his voice as he impulsively moved against her.

She smirked, proud that she had pulled that off and turned in his arms. She met his lips with as much vigour as he gave and began peeling his shirt from his body. Every place he touched burned with the heat of needing more. Once she had stripped him bare of any item of clothing, he had her backed against the bed. She hadn't taken one notice of the room they were in. She didn't care at the moment. All she wanted, all she needed, was this man to take her.

Slowly, reverently, he pushed her back until they were lying on the soft duvet. Their heated kisses turned slow and deep, and she couldn't take her eyes from his. She was locked in the depth of his brown irises, as though he had pulled her underwater and the only breath she was given was from him. He never stopped his hands from wandering of her body, running his open palm from her shoulder to her rear, pulling her thigh up to curve around him.

When he finally pushed his hardened length into her, she was more than ready and they both groaned in pleasure. He was a patient and giving lover, and he kept his movement slow and rhythmic until she begged for more.

"Oh, George, please. Harder," she panted. The feel of him shift his hips so he could move deeper into her left her gasping.

"Yes," she hissed, "Oh, just like that."

He captured her lips again, never losing his pace or his direction. She moaned into his mouth and ran her nails down his back as her pleasure intensified. His shaky moan against her lips left her pleased, and she tilted her hips slightly to make him drive even deeper into her.

"Oh, fuck, love. You are so beautiful," he ground out as his thrusts began to quicken. She gasped at the new speed and ran her hands over his chest before threading them through the locks at the base of his neck to pull him to her.

He avoided her lips and took her hardened nipple into his mouth, nipping on it and then flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. She would not be able to hold on much longer, not with him doing such amazing things to her sensitive flesh. He moved to the other peak and she held him there as he sucked even harder.

His pace quickened and she could feel herself getting close, the heat in her core throbbing and the sound of where their bodies connected was hot and wet. He thrust deep and hard, lifting her arse up to better angle it to him.

Panting, moaning, gasping for more. "I'm so close, please don't stop," she begged.

He lifted his face, and their eyes met each other with an undying passion, pupils blown wide with want and need. She felt her walls clench along his shaft as she was thrown into the waves of orgasm. Crying out and gripping his hair in her fists, she felt him thrust deeper and harder, faster than he had been before, only extending her pleasure as he too cried out and fell against her. He kissed her slow as they both came down from their high.

Lying together, limbs tangled between the sheets, she felt herself begin to drop off to sleep. Her head was cradled against George's arm and chest, and she didn't remember ever feeling more content, more at home. He grabbed her hand and laid it over his heart, toying with the stone he had just given her.

She smiled against him. "I love Christmas more than anything!"

His chest shook in laughter under her curls. "Even more than you love me?"

Lifting her head, she looked up to him. His hair a mess, his cheeks pink from exertion, the freckles on his nose standing out. "There is absolutely nothing in this world I love more than you, George Weasley."


End file.
